


The Lay of Two Lovers

by Nifflers_and_Crookshanks



Series: Children of the Wind [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Air Nomads (Avatar), Air Temple Island, Arts, Culture, Eastern Air Temple, F/M, Festivals, Music, Song - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-01-26 14:04:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21375340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nifflers_and_Crookshanks/pseuds/Nifflers_and_Crookshanks
Summary: Aang learns a new song on his flute after the story of a spring festival is explained to him.
Series: Children of the Wind [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552294
Comments: 13
Kudos: 49





	The Lay of Two Lovers

_1,959 HA, New Era or 0 BG – Southern Air Temple_

There are many festivals in the Air Nomad calendar, almost too many to name. Aang is sure he forgets most of them, because it seems like every other day he wakes up and finds that there are even more sacred occasions then there were the year before. Or perhaps he is just learning more every year, that sounds like something Monk Gyatso would tell him.

The new year had come, finally, marked with no small amount of meditation and fasting and Aang is still happy about being allowed to sit with the masters at the end of it all, feasting on fruit tarts as a new master. He gained his tattoos on Sengge’s Fast, the last observance on the calendar before the new year. Now, weeks later, his skin has healed and so has the world, the frost receding and the high mountain snow lightening in the first weeks of spring. The winds change as well, he can smell it in the air when he steps out into the courtyard each morning. When the first flowers bloom the bells chime, drums bellow and horns sound out, resounding through the mountain ranges across the compass points.

There are many festivals in the Air Nomad calendar, but none so fun as the Spring Celebration. For a culture renowned for it’s appreciation of light heartedness, Aang has always felt that the holidays did not often reflect that. Yangchen’s Festival is a nice picnic, yes, and the Lotus Festival is a good opportunity to enjoy nature and gardening. The Sky Bison Festival is always entertaining, mostly because Appa enjoys the pampering, and the Harvest Festival is an invitation to eat as much as he wants. Then, of course, there’s the Prayer Festival, which is more meditation than festival, the Autumn Equinox, the North Wind Festival and all the special fasts in the winter, from Laghima’s forty hour stretch (an hour for every year above the ground) to Avatar Sengge’s and Nun Vidya’s days. The Spring Celebration is nothing like any of those.

Aang packs, half giddy with delight, before clambering up on Appa and falling into line with all the other monks on their sky bison. Monk Gyatso keeps an eye on him, careful to see he doesn’t stray too far from the herd.

His breath stops when he sees the three peaks of the Eastern Air Temple come into view, tall and proud towers above the clouds. Even from so far away the wind carries the joyful clamour of music to them and Aang is glad he has brought his flute, fingers briefly moving to ghost over the instrument. The momentary distraction is all Appa needs to increase his speed, recognising his home.

“You know what Kshama-Keev celebrates, don’t you?” Gyatso asks the younger monks when they find the stables, earning a scowl from his fellow Monk Tashi.

“Spring?” Jinju risks.

“Not quite,” The elder says, giving Aang’s confused look a sly wink. “Any guesses?”

“Were they spiritual leaders?” Aang hears the doubt in Samten’s voice and is surprised, the older boy always having a better memory of sacred texts than he does.

“That is not what they’re known for,” Gyatso pauses, “Though, I suppose we can think of them as such,”

His cryptic words only confuse his students further, all of whom are anxious to leave and explore the temple as soon as possible, and upon seeing a look of confusion on every face he relents.

“Kshama and Keev were lovers,” He smiles and a chorus of groans is emitted from the gathered boys. “Oh, stop!” The old man says, full of amusement, “When you’re older you won’t be so prudish!”

“Can we go, now?” Rinzen pleads, half-knowing the request will be denied by their master.

“No, this is important,”

Aang is the only one that doesn’t sigh, though not because he expected to be refused. A part of him is genuinely curious, though another still thinks that the sort of love lovers have is too gross to think of. It’s that sort of attitude Gyatso tells him he’ll grow out of.

“Kshama, we are told, was one of the founding nuns at the Eastern Air Temple. She tended to the sky bison herds on these mountains with great devotion, playing with the young calves in the meadows and flying with the adults into the clouds. Keev was a monk from the Southern Air Temple, but unlike Kshama he was far less devout,”

“How do we know this is real? I haven’t read it any of the old books you make us read!” Someone pipes up, who Aang thinks might be Tanun, but he isn’t sure, he’s too focused on the story.

“We don’t know, that’s the beauty of it. The events of this legend happened so long ago that no records have survived. Instead, generation after generation have learnt this tale and told it to the next, because it means something special to us all,”

Gyatso’s moustache ruffles a little as he begins anew.

“Now, Keev was a mischief maker, a prankster, not unlike many young monks I know,” The master slowly eyes all of them, an accusatory gleam in his eye, but he spends the longest on Aang. The boy is just about to cry his defence, that half the time it’s the elder who gets them all into trouble, when Gyatso starts again. “As free as the wind, he didn’t study the sacred texts as much as he should of and he didn’t learn all of his chants. Instead, he spent most of his days having fun,”

“Keev would steal ghee from the temple kitchens, play with all the baby sky bison and use his bending to wreck all sorts of havoc, sending storms of flowers about the gardens and finishing the day with small tornadoes chasing the masters around the courtyard. Once, he even summoned all the winged lemurs to overrun the temple by playing his flute!”

All the boys laughed, picturing hundreds of lemurs wreaking havoc across the sanctuary. 

“Though he never thought to try his hand at fruit tart throwing, only I can claim that exalted honour,” Gyatso added, “One day, the council of elders told the monk that he would have to go, because he was too much trouble. So, like most of our people, he began his nomadic days. It wasn’t long before he came upon the Eastern Air Temple and saw Kshama with her bison herds,”

“Why is it always one of _those_ stories?” Datu mutters under his breath, “It’s so boring!”

Aang doesn’t think there are lots of stories like this, or at least those aren’t the ones he’s heard. The only other real love story he can think of is the legend about Bumi’s city his friend tried to tell him once, which he only half listened to because at the time his thoughts were that if there’s no sky bison in it then it’s not really worth it. He regrets that now, a little, but doubts it’ll ever come back up.

“Keev fell in love with Kshama as soon as he saw her, but when he flew down to meet her the speed of his glider startled the small bison. Kshama, of course, was upset and there wasn’t a lot Keev could do to make up for it. He followed her back to the temple, but that only irritated her. The next day, he brought her flowers, but that still didn’t help matters. ‘Better you had brought fruit, what can I do with wildflowers?’ She had said, so the day after that Keev returned with a basketful of fruit. When she refused it, he offered it to her herd, but the sky bison were wary and did not accept his gift either,”

“Did that help?” Aang asks, surprising himself.

“What should he have done?” His teachers says in response, leaving his student to frown.

“Keev should have brought Kshama a lotus instead of just wildflowers,” Samten answers matter-of-factly. “The lotus is the most beautiful of flowers for it’s purity. Although it is born in muddied waters, it rises, unstained, to achieve enlightenment. By giving a lotus, you wish for a person’s spiritual enlightenment,”

Monk Gyatso looks on, stunned.

“That’s,” He begins, “Well, that’s a very spiritual way of approaching it, Samten. Very well-reasoned,”

It’s clear, however, that his is not the answer.

“He shouldn’t have given her anything,” Next is Tenki’s turn, “Flowers or fruit, it’s all material things that have no real value or wealth. It is only the spirt that is worthy,”

“Again, perfectly correct, but… I don’t think we are approaching this idea in the most romantic of ways,” At his pupil’s clear disappointment, the monk hurries to counter, “Though you are correct, Tenki, one should focus on the spirit rather than worldly things. In that strain of thought, what would you think to do?”

After a pause, a young airbender draws in a calming breath and begins to give voice to his own thoughts.

“Keev is a prankster, right?” Aang says, “If he’s so fun-loving, shouldn’t he try to share some of that with Kshama?”

“Precisely! Ver good, Aang,” Monk Gyatso beams, “What should Keev do?” 

“You said that the sky bison were scared of Keev, because he’d first startled them, but Kshama loves the bison and plays with them. He should try to play with the bison,” 

“And how, do you suggest, he do that?”

A beat as his heart flutters and Aang pauses, unsure.

“Think, Aang. What is the most important part of the Spring Celebration?”

The young monk frowns.

“The dancing, I guess – and the music, the music’s the best part,” Aang hesitates, the creases between his eyebrows growing slightly, “Keev can play the flute, he trained all the winged lemurs to listen to his music. Couldn’t he play to the baby sky bison?”

“Indeed!” Gyatso says, “Keev, while contemplating what he should do next, sat down in the middle of the meadow and began to play his flute. Gradually, all the sky bison came to listen, until the entire herd was flying above in swirling circles, dancing to his tune. All the baby bison began to run about him, too, leaping in the air in celebration,”

“So, did that work?” Jinju asks in disbelief.

“Kshama heard Keev’s flute playing, too. When she came into the meadow she smiled at him and they danced together. The Spring Celebration celebrates their love through music and dance, and it is a good reminder to never forget to have fun! And, you never know, young airbenders. One day you might come here to celebrate Kshama-Keev and meet a pretty girl of your own,”

The young boys all groan at that.

Soon enough, the group is led from the stables to the terraces of the second peak. A whole crowd has gathered there, the happy voices of the nuns and monks mingling in the air and Aang sees that this is the source of the music, rows of drummers dancing about in circle formations as the others dance around them. The young and old both seem to be here, celebrating with song and dance the coming of the season of growth and abundance.

“Try not to get into too much trouble,” Gyatso says to them, the signal for his students to go tearing down the steps of the temple to join their fellow nomads.

Aang takes off on an air scooter, laughing as they fly like the wind to the terraces. They come here every year, more than half the nation convening for one beautiful day beneath the spring sky to share in play, fun and love, but that never makes it any less exciting. With the story still fresh in his mind, he launches into the dance circles, earning friendly shouts from the monks and nuns already moving.

The older boys are here as well, Monk Tashi’s pupils seizing the chance at fun with more enthusiasm than Aang has ever seen in any of them before. Sengge, has always been confident, but never so fearless to leap and dive so far into the air as he does now, while shy Idaten becomes a whole other person, dancing manically about the circle. Even studious Jigme, his books forgotten in his saddle bag, is jumping about in great turns and swirls. Aang is delighted, if confused, as he looks across to the other circle, until he hears a giggle beside him.

The nuns in the circle are from the Western Air Temple, he can tell by the slightly different shade of their robes, and are no older that eighteen, the same age as the boys. Unlike the monks, however, two of them are already masters, the blue arrows on their hands and foreheads bright in the sunlight. The tallest one is watching the other circle as well, suppressing a grin as she twirls about. Then Aang is watching her eyes flutter, cheeks gaining the slightest tinge of blush as Idaten flashes a grin to her and the young boy can’t believe he’s witnessing him, of all people, flirt.

Cheers rise as the music stops and the circles break formation, new dancers arranging themselves in preparation for the next song. The three older boys seem to drift across to Aang, all breathing slightly heavier.

“Hey, little brother,” Sengge greets him and Aang knows instantly that none of the three have any interest in having a conversation with him.

“Hey, yourself,”

“Who are your new friends?”

The group of older airbenders has dispersed, leaving only the four younger nuns who hover beside Aang, clearly interested in using him as a go-between just as much as the others.

“I’m Ratri,” The tallest nun says with a smile, moving her long hair behind her shoulder, “And this is Kannon, Du Luo and Bansi,” She gestures to her companions, first to the other master before indicating the rest of the nuns. The last one seems decidedly less interested than the others, standing off a little to the side. Aang guesses there’s only enough of the older boys for three.

“Where are you guys from?” Kannon asks.

“The Southern Air Temple. I’m Jigme and this is Sengge, Idaten and Aang,”

The older boys immediately dive into conversation with the girls, while Aang shifts his weight from one foot to the next.

“So, you’re already a master,” Bansi says, leaning down to examine his tattoo, “Aren’t you a little young?”

She’s a full head taller than he is, with a dark complexion and calm eyes. Aang would guess that she’s just about the age to get her tattoos and is wondering how he managed to get them so early.

“I invented a new technique,” He answers brightly, “The air scooter, do you want to see it?”

He doesn’t really mind that the nun is just indulging him when she nods, promptly forming a spherical ball beneath him and running it in short circles around her.

“That’s so cool!” She says, “I’m still on the thirty fifth level, I just can’t get the sutras right,”

“Neither could I!”

Soon, the flirting between the older ones evolve until they’re all running off to join the next dance and Banis spares Aang just a small smile before following, leaving the little airbender by himself. Now that Gyatso has told him the story of Kshama-Keev, he sees couples everywhere, from two middle aged air nuns making garland wreaths out of wildflowers for each other to the young boys and girls dancing together and the two old masters walking hand in hand, sharing fond smiles. Suddenly, the celebration isn’t so much about him as it is about the others and Aang feels almost like an intruder in the terraces full of lovers.

He finds a place to sit in the garden terraces that look down on the meadow, crosses his legs and resolves to meditate.

“Now, meditating’s no way to spend the Spring Celebration,” An aged voice says and Aang turns around to see Monk Gyatso walking with Sister Iio, “Kshama-Keev is one of the few holy days that doesn’t mandate meditation or fasting, it asks for the exact opposite, little airbender,”

Sister Iio bows her leave to her old friend, leaving master and student to discuss matters in peace.

“I don’t have anyone to spend it with,” Aang responds lamely.

“Young monk, neither do I,” Gyatso sighs, joints creaking in protest as he sits by his pupil, “This day isn’t just about lovers, you know. It’s about all sorts of love and fun above all else,”

“Someone should try telling that to the others,”

The old man follows his gaze to where the older boys play, throwing themselves into the air to impress their lady companions, and chuckles.

“You’re only twelve, Aang. When you’re their age, you’ll understand. Teenage monks are a whole other breed of airbender, I assure you,”

“What if I don’t find anyone to spend it with, though? What if I end up alone. All the other monks don’t want to play with me since I got my tattoos, what if the nuns are the same?”

“You know, little lemur, you remind me of a good friend of mine I knew a long time ago,” Gyatso says, “He was fun loving and kind, just as you are, with a good heart. When I first met him he was desperately in love with a girl he knew back in his home in the Fire Nation. He wouldn’t stop talking about her, always interrupting all my quiet time with updates about the letters he had sent her and worrying if he’ll ever get a reply,”

“Did he?”

“Not often. He was so worried about her not liking him, so scared that he would end up alone that it consumed maybe half his life during his teenage years. But, he didn’t. He ended up marrying the very same girl, in fact. They had a wonderful life together,”

“So, I shouldn’t be worried?” Aang guesses.

“Of course not! All will come, in time. Now, are you ready to dance again?” At his student’s clear reluctance, Gyatso smiled softly, “Do you have your flute?”

Aang produced the instrument from within his robes, offering it to him.

“Why don’t I teach you to play a song, eh? It’s about Kshama and Keev, they call it the Lay of Two Lovers,”

So the rest of the afternoon was spent with music and fun, and Aang did not spare a thought to his own romantic future for the next hundred years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Calendar: Obviously the way time is measured in the world of avatar has to have been different before the air nomad genocide, as AG and BG mean After Genocide and Before Genocide. 
> 
> There are sixteen eras seen in the calendar in Wan Shi Tong's library, all of which are written with elemental radicals, and I liked the idea of having seperate eras named after the avatar. When a new one is born but unidentified, it's simply called "the new era" until they do something noteworthy. So, HA stands for "Harmonious Age" (wherein all the four nations live in harmony post the Water Tribe split) and it's called "the new era" because Aang has not been announced as the avatar or done anything significant yet. 
> 
> Festival: So this festival has no canonical basis, with it's origin largely influenced by the Hindu tradition of Krishna and Radha's raasleela.


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